


No Secrets

by berlynn_wohl



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Bathing/Washing, M/M, Masturbation, Urination, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-10-20 13:08:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17622953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/berlynn_wohl/pseuds/berlynn_wohl
Summary: “Watson, it is mine, and I shall wash it as fast as I like.”





	No Secrets

It was a cheerful morning – I awoke with the melody of Handel’s _Sonata in D Major_ rattling round my brain (perhaps not a cheerful song, but it is a favorite of mine). A little later in the day a client would be stopping by with a promising case, but for now I had not much to occupy me, so to pass the time I drew a hot bath. Not being able to take the violin in with me, I hummed the sonata as I scrubbed myself. Once I was clean, I was quite comfortable and not keen to get out, so I turned the faucet for more hot water and relaxed.

That was about the time I heard Watson’s tread on the stair. I was not expecting him to rise so early. I listened as he set foot upon the landing and came through the sitting room. He knocked on the half-open bathroom door, but stayed on that side of it.

“Holmes?” He sounded considerably more agitated than he typically did on a Sunday morning. “Are you just about finished in the bath?”

“Not necessarily,” I said. “Why?”

Before he replied, there was a distinct clearing of the throat, a shift upon the floorboards from one foot to the other. “Well, I’ve just got up, you see.” When I did not respond, he made himself more clear: “I rather badly need to pass water.”

“Watson, between two men who live and work so closely as you and I, there need be no secrets. By all means, come in and see to your needs.”

Watson popped his head around the door. “You won’t find that offensive?” The look on his face told me he was the one who found the idea…not distasteful, but dubious.

I waved him inside. “For God’s sake, were you not in the army? Surely you are not so squeamish as all that. Come in and relieve yourself, I’m in no mood to argue such a trivial thing.”

Watson tiptoed into the bathroom as though he were trying to escape my notice. He crept past me and over to the toilet. He wore only his nightshirt, and as he passed by, it was obvious that he was at a half-stand beneath it.

He glanced nervously at the way I was oriented in the tub, facing him directly – a bit bashful, that was understandable. He dared not look at me too long though, or turn fully in my direction, lest he appear to be leering at my nakedness. I did not take my eyes off him, and he must certainly have felt the weight of my gaze. However, his need was too urgent to ignore, and he lifted his nightshirt.

At last, my curiosity was satisfied, as he revealed to me that he had a lovely prick, not so big as to be ridiculous but substantial to be sure, especially in the state it was currently in. It looked heavy in his hand. He ignored me as best he could while attempting to aim this straining cockstand; no doubt he was exercising his imagination, conjuring images to help reduce his girth so that he might more easily begin his stream. He pressed downward on himself at the root, careful to ensure that his aim was true. As his morning erection at last diminished somewhat, he tugged his foreskin back in preparation.

He gasped softly as a burst of piss finally shot out and into the bowl, but then he must have clenched in embarrassment, for it stopped, and he groaned. With a few deep breaths, he managed to relax himself sufficiently, and his stream resumed in earnest, robust and steady. He tilted his head back and moaned softly with his immense relief.

He pissed for a long while; I watched his prick twitch minutely as he unleashed this torrent. When the gush diminished to a trickle, he pushed a little on his lower abdomen, making sure he got everything out. A few final little spurts and he was finished. He then held himself between thumb and forefinger to shake the last drop from the tip, then pulled the chain. When he turned his head to see if I had been watching all along, I let the corner of my mouth twitch upwards, to tell him that I had indeed.

The sound of bathwater sloshing drew his eyes downwards, and he scrutinised the movement beneath the surface of the water. “Good lord, are you _masturbating_?”

“Watson,” I said, “it is mine, and I shall wash it as fast as I like.”

He smirked; this broke the tension in exactly the way I had intended. He glanced down at his prick, still in his hand, then pivoted so that he faced me. Ah, excellent, he was game for it! He took a half-step so that his knees nearly touched the rim of the tub. My prick jerked in my hand as he loomed over me, holding his own ample instrument in his hand. He brought himself back to a state of full excitement, easing his foreskin back and forth over the glans. I watched how his fingers played with the sensitive spot just under the crown, and began to do the same to myself.

Once he was fully engorged, he frigged himself in earnest, his bollocks jiggling as he worked. All this watching and being watched had me in a frenzy, splashing water all about and onto the floor. I looked into his eyes, daring him to climax first.

The first jet of his spunk landed on my chest, mostly above the water. The second hit my bent knee and the inside of my thigh. The third fell on the rim of the tub. The sight of all this brought me to my own crisis; I braced my heels against the curve at the bottom of the tub as my back arched quite beyond my control. My hips surged above the water, and my spunk shot out in a magnificent arc over my belly.

My thrashing sloshed wave after wave over my body, washing away the evidence of Watson’s passion and my own. It all mingled now with the bathwater, and I did not care to soak in it. “I suppose I’ll have to get out now,” I sighed, and planted my hands on either side of the tub, lifting myself up. I stood naked before Watson, showing him everything he’d shown me and more. With a flourish, I took the towel from the rack and handed it to him. “Dry me, won’t you?” I said.

**Author's Note:**

> berlynn-wohl on Tumblr and Pillowfort for more of this sort of nonsense, plus information about my stories that are not available on AO3.
> 
> I also used to be something of a BBC!Johnlock fic writer, and you can check those out on this site. :)


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